by Vr McCoy
“Yes, what little I had.”
“Well, I'm a simple girl. I hope you didn't get me anything too expensive,” she replied with a smile as I took her black pea coat.
“Wow, you look totally different without your Clark Kent glasses on, Chris. You should show those beautiful green eyes of yours more often from,” she said, staring me in the eyes. I hadn't really thought about it, but she was used to seeing me with my black rimmed glasses on while at work. I hardly ever wore them when I'm at home.
“So, I'm in time for dinner,” she further stated, engaging me with a smile. Dianna was very forthcoming and out front. She wasn't shy at all.
“Yes. I'm cooking some pasta with lobster and sauce.”
“Can I help,” she inquired with excitedly? “Sure,” I replied.
I had a huge, modern kitchen, with an island range and hood. The kitchen was large enough to eat in. I had two bar stools and a small, upright table that I usually ate on. I didn't really have guests over for dinner, so it was all I needed.
“What a coincidence? You're fixing Italian cuisine and having an Italian girl over for dinner,” she said, laughing, as I escorted her to the kitchen.
Dianna was a beautiful and vibrant woman. She had killer curves and a dynamite smile. Her hair was shoulder length and curly, like a lot of women of Italian descent. She was of darker complexion like the Sicilians. As she was a comfortable 5'7 and weighed about 140 pounds, she was in perfect shape. She had on jeans which appeared like a second skin, the way they hugged and accentuated her curvy, voluptuous body, and a white blouse buttoned down to the point where I could see just enough cleavage; not slutty, but sexy. There is a fine line between the two. She had on the sexiest black boots that came almost up to her knees. Dianna was fine from head to toe, with or without clothes.
She assisted me in the kitchen. She turned it into a sensual experience. There were several moments shared in the kitchen when we were close. She was flirting the whole time and I was enjoying every minute of it! She was fun to be around. We opened a bottle of wine and enjoyed our dinner with light conversation. She was like a schoolgirl, asking questions about me and my abilities.
“So, what if someone was dreaming about you; could you tell,” she inquired? I started to smile. “Are you laughing at me,” she asked with a small giggle? “No, it's just refreshing. Most people feel uncomfortable talking about it with me.”
“Oh, so you're the boogey man now, huh?” she said, teasing me and smiling.
“No, from what I hear, I'm Freddy Krueger,” I replied while making a gesture with both my fork and pasta spoon. We both had a good laugh at that one.
“But really, can you tell if someone dreams about you?” she insisted at last.
“No. It would have to be what the doctors and I call `Invasive Dreamscape'. That person would have to have the ability also,” I replied.
“So you can invade others' dreams without them invading yours?” she asked.
“No. When I'm in Dreamscape, I share the dream with them. They know and experience everything I do, but to really answer the question; I don't know. If I feel a strong enough connection with the person, I guess anything is possible. I mean, who would've thought any of this is possible,” I replied.
She smiled and continued eating.
I wondered if she had been dreaming about me, or was going to dream about me. I never really gave it much thought since we worked together. I promised Steve that I would never invade the dreams of team members unless it was under critical circumstances and their life was in jeopardy. Thus far I had kept my promise and respected the boundaries and privacy of my team on a professional level. Perhaps Dianna was just testing me to see if I was invading her dreams, or those of the other team members.
After dinner we took our glasses and the bottle of wine into the living room. She viewed the books of poetry I had on the mantle and requested a reading. I just knew she was going to ask me to play something on the piano or one of my stringed instruments, but once again, she proved herself unpredictable. I read Poe to her in front of the fireplace. Since the theme of our evening conversation was centered on my Dreamscape, I followed in kind by reading her “A Dream,” “A Dream within a Dream” and my favorite, “Dreams”. She stated that she understood and could see why “Dreams” was my favorite.
She asked that I read more of my favorites, which I obliged until she fell asleep. It was a hypnotic trick I learned from Dr. Banks; how to set external moods. I wasn't trying to manipulate her, but I could tell she needed the sleep. It was obvious by the way she nestled in the glow and warmth of the fireplace. I let her rest on the sofa and placed a blanket over her. I sat on the floor beside her, thinking about what to do with my newly acquired friend.
Dianna was vibrant and full of life. She was an extrovert, the complete opposite of me. She had lots of friends and stayed active. That's why it wasn't really a stretch of the imagination to find her in the neighborhood. Although sometimes she over-exerted herself, being so active. This was one of those times. It was the holiday season and she had been out all day, visiting and shopping. I still didn't understand her interest in me. Although she had made it quite clear that she was attracted to me. She was a flirt at heart and a very attractive woman, but there was no mistaking her attraction towards me for mere teasing friendliness.
I fell asleep on the floor beside Dianna, and when I woke up she was gone. There was a note on the sofa which read, “Hey Chris; thanks for a lovely evening. Next time it's on me. See you in my dreams. Dianna.” She had left the door open for another dinner date, although this one had been spur of the moment. Or had it?
It was midnight when I woke up. The stereo was still playing jazz and the fire in the hearth had subsided to barely glowing embers. I poked them and placed some more wood on top. I wasn't sleepy, so I cleaned the kitchen and washed the dishes. While cleaning, I thought about her note, especially the last part of it. I wondered if she was making a joke, or if she was soliciting an audition for a demonstration. I dismissed such thoughts and went back to the living room. It wouldn't be appropriate to engage in such activities with a colleague.
The next day I went for an early run through Rock Creek Park. It was a crisp, cold morning, but I had dressed well for it. I enjoyed jogging in the park and swimming at the YMCA, because they were solitary sports which didn't require team effort. I could be left alone to my thoughts. After the run I went directly home for a shower, breakfast and a cafè mocha latte. I wanted to use the Christmas gift I got for myself; a Geneva Gourmet Coffee Maker. It was an expensive machine I had been observing for the longest time, but it had just gone on sale for the holidays. I didn't particularly care for the season; it always made me depressed, but I did enjoy the sales. I also enjoyed the Christmas spirit: what it meant and what was brought with it. `Good Will To Men'.
After breakfast I was attempting to enjoy my cafè mocha latte when the telephone rang. I was an old fashioned guy who still had a home telephone. It was of the antique black stand up variety, with the horn-type listening device. I was a bit agitated when I answered, because I was looking forward to enjoying my cup of coffee in peace.
“Hello,” I answered in a perturbed voice.
“I'm sorry for disturbing you, Chris,” Dianna said, clearly having noted to the tension in my voice, “But did I lose my flash drive over there? I usually keep it on my keychain, but I couldn't find it this morning.”
“I didn't see it, but I'll look for it,” I replied.
“Ok, call me if you find it. And by the way, thanks again for a lovely evening.”
“It was my pleasure,” I replied. “I mean it; the next time it's my treat. We can either go out to eat or I can prepare dinner for us at my place,” she said.
“Sure, thanks,” I replied.
“So which will it be,” she asked?
“Whatever you prefer,” I replied.
“Oh, you're easy, huh? Ok; I'll cook dinner for us at my place. What are you doing for
Christmas Eve?”
“Nothing special,” I replied.
“Ok then, you can come over to my place and we'll have dinner together.”
“Alright,” I responded.
“I'll talk to you later,” she said before hanging up the phone. Now I was certain she was interested in me. I need to see if the Bureau has a fraternizing policy.
I hung the telephone up and went back to enjoying my gourmet cup of coffee. I looked for her flash drive afterwards and discovered it between the cushions on the sofa. I called Dianna to notify her of my discovery. She inquired if I would be in later this afternoon, so she could pick it up. I informed her that I had a doctor's appointment at 2:00 pm. She asked if she could pick it up later in the evening, to which I agreed. My new doctor was Joaquinna D. Green, M.D. Dr. Banks felt it was time for me to move on and continue my therapy sessions with a fresher perspective, since I was in control of my dreams and doing well.
The real reason was of a more personal nature. He could no longer take the harassment from the police department and the media, when I was considered a prime suspect in the prostitute abduction case. I later vindicated myself and helped the police find the killer, but the damage had been done. I didn't blame him. He had a family with kids to consider.
When Dr. Green took my case, she was well aware of the publicity and high profile that came with having me for a patient. Although I was proven innocent, or should I say proved my innocence, there were still people who had their doubts. This was before the FBI took an interest in me. Dr. Green was young and single, with a new practice. Her having a high profile patient like me would do wonders for her career and resume. The publicity wouldn't hurt either.
It was early when I arrived at Dr. Green's office. She was still with another patient. I waited in the sitting area and read through the National Geographic on her table. She had better magazines than any of the shrinks I had visited and played dream games with. There was Sports Illustrated, Car and Driver, Vogue, Gentlemen's Quarterly and Time, just to name a few. Even better, they were all up to date; how I abhorred reading a Sports Illustrated article about an event that had happened several months ago, like articles about the past Superbowl in June!
I had been hooked up to just about every CAT scanning device and REM machine out there. I'd been hypnotized and traumatized by their science, but I'd come out standing tall. My mother had wanted me to have a normal life, free of the nightmares and sleep walking. Without her concern and help I would have never met Dr. Banks, who assisted me greatly in controlling this ability of mine.
Dr. Green didn't need proof of my abilities. She was well briefed by Dr. Banks, a leader in his field, who also published several books and publications for medical journals. He was a highly recognized, award-winning doctor. He had taught Dr. Green at Harvard Medical School.
Dr. Green had two employees working in her office. There was a middle aged woman, who handled most of the general receptionist duties. She answered the telephone, greeted the patients, checked them in and did filing. The other employee was a muscular young man, who worked on the computer and kept the office in order. I believe he was there for security purposes as well. He was the reason why so many of the magazines were geared towards men. He looked like a former jock of some sort.
A young woman exited the Analysis Room (AR) with Dr. Green. She was in her early twenties and extremely thin; perhaps anorexic. I could see her clavicle bone clearly through the blouse she was wearing, and her facial bones protruded sharply, as though shaped with a chisel.
“…Continue with that and I'll see you again next week,” Dr. Green said to the thin young lady as they approached the receptionist desk. She then turned her attention towards me with a smile.
“Hello, Christian. How are you?”
“I'm doing well, Dr. Green.”
“That's excellent. You can go in; I'll be right with you.”
She had a folder with the young lady's name on the label; Audrey Bynum. Dr. Green remained at the receptionist desk as I walked towards the AR. I had heightened my profiling and investigative skills after working with the police and the FBI, but even before then my vigilance was quick and accurate. I could walk into a room and describe everything I saw at a later date. It was a side effect of the dreamscaping. I learned how to pick apart and memorize visual scenes from my dreams, with the assistance of Dr. Banks.
Dr. Green's office was very comfortable, as most analysis rooms, except she didn't force her patients to lie on a couch or anything. I could walk around or do whatever I felt like at the moment. Her office looked like a living room. There were three leather recliner chairs and a plush leather sofa, all black, a coffee table in the center and lamp tables on each side of the sofa. She even had a flat screen television with a DVD player.
There were no clocks on the wall, or anywhere in her office. There was a huge window which she kept covered by automatic shades and curtains. The shades were designed to completely eliminate the daylight from outside. I had seen this before in the more expensive psychoanalysts' offices that I'd visited through my childhood.
She had two typical portraits on the wall; a rendition of Whistler's painting; `The Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rockets and Van Gogh's `Starry Night over the Rhone', which I found to be quite interesting. The theme of both of these paintings was dream states. The word Nocturne suggests a tranquil, dreamy mood. She also had a 1919 copy of `The Interpretation of Dreams' by Freud in a glass case on the wall. It must have cost a fortune. It was clear Dr. Green, like Dr. Banks, had a particular interest in dreams.
She also had an expensive, black wooden desk in the corner of the room with Newton's Cradle which some call Pendulum Balls, on the desk. I always found this applied physics apparatus interesting. Dr. Green was not only smart, but had a very interesting mind of her own. She explained the Pendulum of Life with Newton's Cradle which was so insightful. I looked forward to our meetings; especially since the Bureau paid the bill. It was a stipulation of my agreement, which they had no problem in supplying.
Dr. Joaquinna Green was an African American woman, about 35 years of age, with long black hair which she wore pinned up in one of those modern, feminine hairstyles. She was a tall, about 5'10”, with a curvy, athletic body. You could see that she worked out. If I was to describe a celebrity who looked similar to her, it would be the actress Paula Patton. Dr. Green was wearing a grey power suit with a pink blouse and black high heel shoes, which accented perfectly sculptured calves covered by smoke grey stockings.
She didn't wear jewelry; no necklace or watch. She used her cell phone to time sessions inconspicuously. She wasn't worried about going over the allotted time, but she was concerned about other patients waiting. I was usually scheduled for an hour. As I stated before, I was her star patient and she had an added interest in dreams. That's why Dr. Banks referred me to her. This was her specialty, just like his.
“So, how's everything with you, Christian?”
“Everything is well, Dr. Green.”
“How's work?”
“Well, you know how that is. I'm induced into a dream trance and I live inside the dreams of psychopaths. No, I'm sorry; problematic individuals.”
She smiled when I corrected myself. “And how are you coping? Are you still doing yoga and meditating?”
“Yes,” I replied as I paced the room.
“What's bothering you today? You seem a little edgy,” she said She could tell I had something on my mind. Usually I'd play with the Pendulum Balls while we talked.
“I did want to speak to you about one of my colleagues.”
“Okay, tell me about it,” she replied while sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed.
She had my folder next to her while the recorder captured the session. She was polite enough not to write while we were in session. She gave the clients her full attention. That's what she liked referring to us as, instead of patients. She wanted to eliminate the stigma which accompanied the use of the word patient.<
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We discussed my relationship with Dianna for the rest of my session. Dr. Green provided me with a lot of food for thought. She thought it was a good thing to have Dianna as a close friend and encouraged it, but stated that we both needed to really think long and hard about taking it further than just friends. She pointed out all of the ramifications of having a relationship with someone you work with. She gave the pros and cons, but as usual left the decision making up to me. After our session she gave me a Christmas gift. This I hadn't anticipated. She must've had given one to Ms. Bynum when I came inside the AR, or on some other occasion.
“Thank you, Doc, but I didn't get you anything.”
“It's alright, Christian. The point of Christmas is to give without expecting to receive.”
The Doc had a way of putting everything into perspective and making it seem better. I still felt a little guilty because I didn't buy her anything. Now I had to purchase two additional gifts; one for the Doc and one for Dianna. I couldn't show up for dinner empty-handed on Christmas Eve.
When I left the Doc's office in Bethesda, I went directly to the Mazza Gallery on Wisconsin Avenue to shop for gifts, but was overwhelmed by the mob of people who were there. It took time and effort to find parking, so I gave up. I could only imagine how crowded it was inside! I continued down Wisconsin Ave. and stopped in a jeweler's. I saw a nice pair of diamond studs that I purchased for Dianna, and a Moldova watch for the Doc since she didn't have one.
I had only purchased one gift for Christmas before, and that was for Talayah, my niece in Atlanta. She was in grade school and we had a special relationship, since I was her only uncle. I didn't have anyone else to purchase gifts for, so I spent a little over my budget. I always sent my mother and sister cash; they had just about everything they could ever want.
It was late in the day and I didn't really have the time to spend looking for gifts. I also couldn't bear the crowds. The Doc has some big medical text book term for the condition; she calls it enochlophobia. I'd never heard of the word until she presented it to me. All I know is that I don't like being around a lot of people.
